Burn
by Darkness's Angel
Summary: A flicker on a flame dies as the hours grow longer, until it no longer burns.


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Burn 

Summary: A flicker on a flame dies as the hours grow longer, until it no longer burns. 

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Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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They always compare old lover to flames. Flames that supposedly had burnt out long ago, sometimes they are able to be rekindled, sometimes not. It's ironic how whenever it comes to matters of the heart, there are so many clichés out there, you lose count. Comparing it to childhood sweethearts, to soul mates. But, does any one really ever find the one special person? Do you have to be a certain age to fall in love, or does it happen naturally? 

I used to ask my mother so many questions like that when I was younger, and still too young to understand. She used to always tell me that I'd know in my heart. I'd always ask her how my dad and her got together, or mostly how she felt. She always respond with the same answer, it's different for everyone. Me being the know-it-all, that wasn't good enough, I needed to know.

Such a bittersweet moment in life. I always wished for the answers to my question concerning love, but when I got them, I didn't want them any longer. It wasn't like anything I had ever felt before. It gave me a reason to act the way I did, but it also hurt me so much deeper than words.

I remember the moment I first met him, it's one I'll never forget. 

_"Has anyone found a toad? Nevielle's lost one."_

What a fool I must have been. I remember, taking one look at him, and my heart was gone, just like that. I still haven't gotten it back yet, and it's been seven years since then, but it seems longer. Eventually it became a natural instinct to love him, if anything else.

He has faced so much in his short life, that I don't even know how he got through it all. I know I could never be that strong. Just the fact that he needed me, made me glow. I kept telling myself that was what I needed to be for him, his best friend. There was not need to complicate matters.

Soon though, that wasn't enough. I kept my feelings to myself, of course, but it felt like everyone knew. I never actually said a thing about it, though. Until my mother came to my room one night, this past summer, before my last year at Hogwarts, and asked my the one question I had dreaded since I was eleven.

_"You're in love with him aren't you?"_

I tried to lie, or change the subject, anything to get away from that question, but hesitantly, I answered her, and the whole story came out. I told her everything Harry had been through, as well as everything I felt. She seemed most surprised when I told her, it wasn't numb any more as it had been last year, but it had burnt.

It was like every time he was around me, a rippling pain engulfed me, and I couldn't breathe. My cheeks would flush, and my eyes would water. It was like I was under sunlight magnified ten times. But most of all, it wouldn't stop. I told her of the burning sensation in my heart, then tingled up into my throat. About how my heart would speed up.

I don't think she expected her daughter to fall in love at the age of eleven, but I did. It's been there for a very long time, so long in fact, I wonder if it'll ever truly be gone forever, and we can have the "normal" friendship everyone expects us to have.

After I had told her everything, I broke down and cried, shouting, "It's not fair." My mother embraced me, and stroked my hair, until I had let all of the pain, and heartache I had bottled up since I was eleven finally come out. She told me everything would be alright, that it was only natural to fall for someone.

I calmed down to the point where I let her leave my room. I didn't go to sleep that night though, instead I sat up and thought about everything. I lit a candle, and watched as the flame danced when I blew on it a certain way. I watched it until it died down, leaving the wax black as night, silently wishing that was how my love for Harry would be. A flicker on a flame that died as the hours passed, until it slowly died, leaving nothing but the burnt wax.

Fate wouldn't let it be so. That whole summer, as I had done before, I tried to forget my overwhelming feelings for my best friend. It almost worked to, like a flame wining down to it's last flicker, that was until I saw him. The flame that had been almost put out, rekindled itself, much to my displeasure, burning brighter than ever before.

I put on a fake smile, and pretended that my world was one big happy place, when in reality it was crumbling into pieces, with me stuck in the center, unable to escape. They believed my façade for awhile, until one day I let it slip. It was only for a second, did the emotion I had so involuntarily been carrying for the last seven years, show in all it's glory. In all honesty, it showed itself to him, the one I had been pining for this whole time.

We had been studying, Ron, him, and I. It was like an normal day, if you could call it that. At one point, I stopped scribing my quill across the paper, and looked up. Clouds formed over my eyes, and I should have realized my gaze had lingered too long, but I didn't. It was only when he glanced up, did I know. I quickly averted my eyes, not wanting him to see the blush that would inevitably cover my cheeks. 

"Are you alright, Hermione?" he asked quietly. 

"Yes, I was just thinking, was my vague reply. We never really spoke of it again, although, I knew I had to let him see too much that day. Things were never really the same after that.

As I sit here, staring out of the window, I hear him. I always seemed to know it was him. He sat beside me, and I felt his gaze. I couldn't turn though, and kept my eyes glued on the snow.

"What happened to us, Mi?" he asked me quietly, "We don't seem to be the same anymore." 

I was silent for a moment. It's such a simple question, and there should be a simple answer to match, but there wasn't.

"I'm not sure why," I responded. We sat there for awhile, in a comfortable, but strange silence, then he stood up and walked away. That's when I realized it.

I turned away from the window, only to be captivated by the flames. My love for him is that of a flame. Not only does it burn at the touch, but it gives you a searing pain, unlike any kind. As a flame dances, it plays tricks, seemingly almost dead, only to come alive once again.

People compare love to many things. It hurts, and shatters you, but the worst, the absolute worst, is when it burns.

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Author's Note - Well, this was really random. I had no control of it, actually. It was one of those fics that just bugs you until you actually write it. It was inspired by a friend of mine that has no idea he was the "muse" for it. Please review!


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